Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“Nile, I wasn’t finished… those rowdy fucks destroyed two beds in the penthouse. All the mattresses were wrecked except for the master bedroom.”
“What? And they didn’t replace them?”
He scowls. “This was a little over a week ago, so the replacements are still on order. I’ll take the couch.”
“Oh, no. Absolutely not. How old are you? If you sleep on the couch, you’ll get back pain. And then you’ll be really unbearable.”
“I’m not seventy.” His scowl deepens.
“Nope, I’m not giving your grumpy, overbearing ass a reason to play martyr. We both know you’ll use it against me later. Besides, I was a student not that long ago.”
“I’m aware,” he says gruffly, folding his arms and leaning against the door. “Your point?”
“I’m used to roughing it. Dorms, hostels, beds shared with three other people of any gender because we had to.” I smile sweetly. “This is still an upgrade compared to that. And I never wound up with a backache once.”
“I don’t have back problems,” he snarls, stalking back into the living room, shaking his head.
“Whatever you say, Gramps.”
I follow him a moment later.
Honestly, the sofa doesn’t look that comfortable despite being high end, but it’ll do with a nest of blankets and pillows. I’ll never understand why Gramps didn’t bring a nice sectional in here when the room was big enough.
Holden won’t fit comfortably with his ridiculous height, but I will.
I mean, if I curl up a bit.
Maybe if I drag two chairs together? Or I could take the cushions out and put them on the floor. There has to be a solution.
“No argument. Let me take the couch,” I say, sensing him hovering behind me again, still vibrating with anger.
“Cleo—”
“You have knee pain,” I say matter-of-factly.
His brown eyes flash like sun-soaked desert sands.
“Don’t pretend you don’t. I noticed how careful you were walking onto the plane earlier.” I look down. “Just suck it up and take the bed, my guy. I need you locked in if you’re going to be a good guard dog, right?” I venture meeting his eyes again.
Guilt punch.
There’s a darkness swirling in those depths I haven’t seen before.
But if I didn’t notice how he climbed the stairs on and off the jet, I definitely would’ve noticed him massaging his knee with his thumbs before I drifted off. I had an older art teacher who did the same thing, only his issues were more serious.
“Anyway,” I say, “I’m good with this. Really. Oh, and don’t forget the view.” I gesture to the window. “At night, those lights are pretty spectacular. I’d be crazy not to break out my sketch pad and enjoy a little inspiration.”
His lips purse sourly.
I can tell he wants to argue, if he’s not just furious I called out a physical defect he clearly keeps secret.
But Holden just exhales slowly.
“If you insist. No business of mine where you sleep, Miss Blackthorn, as long as you’re comfortable.” The way he says it sounds more like not my problem. “We’ve got the meeting with Fairfax in a few hours, so that should be our focus.”
“Okay, yeah. And will you ever stop Miss Blackthorn-ing me at some point? I have a name. Cleo.”
“Cleo, I’ll be ready,” he throws back.
I spread my hands, oddly satisfied.
That second power nap worked a little magic after all. I feel like I’m ready to take on the world—or at least Jasper Fairfax.
And yes, maybe that’s what I tell myself as I look at the suitcase still clasped in Holden’s hand. The thing must be glued to him.
I still can’t believe it’s hiding the key to the rest of our lives.
“Let’s get a price on this puppy so we can find it a new home. The sooner, the better,” I whisper.
He nods firmly.
If we agree on anything, it’s getting this over with and going on our merry, very separate ways ASAP.
By the time we reach the top of the soaring skyscraper with Jasper Fairfax’s office, my confidence is in tatters.
My palms sweat. I wipe them on the sides of my pants, hoping I don’t leave a mark.
That would be just my luck. Walking in with the biggest break of my life, only to look like I just came from the gym.
At the top floor, the lobby of Miracles by Fairfax feels normal enough. It’s a large space with a frontline gallery where collectors with big pockets can shop exquisite, beautiful collections of rare pieces.
The nice, well-put-together lady ushers us straight through to the back as soon as we give her our names, and now we’re entering the inner sanctum.
No wait. A good sign he means business.
Real, actual, oh my God, I might make a fortune business.
“We have the papers, too, yes?” I whisper to Holden.
“Yes.” A muscle in his jaw twitches.
It’s a stupid question. I know it’s stupid when I’m asking a man who has order in his blood. He’s been doing this bodyguard thing longer than I’ve been alive—slight exaggeration, probably, but whatever.